


you fill my lungs with sweetness

by peterdonaldson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-26 22:37:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2668961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterdonaldson/pseuds/peterdonaldson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s just shuffled his guitar back into position and opened his mouth to begin his next cover when the guy down the street starts to sing and Harry’s jaw actually tightens. The guy’s voice is almost as good as his guitar playing.<br/>Oh, it’s <i>on</i>.</p><p> </p><p>based on the prompt 'competitive buskers who eventually form a band au', starring narry</p>
            </blockquote>





	you fill my lungs with sweetness

**Author's Note:**

> based on the prompt ‘competitive buskers who eventually form a band au’ from this tumblr post  
> aka i wrote this in 4 hours after a year of writer’s block so i apologise in advance seriously i am so so sorry

The first time Harry notices him, it’s a busy Tuesday lunchtime and the high street is packed with council workers from up the road all clamouring to buy lunch. He usually makes sure he’s set up and playing by that time, the crowds and the loose change they have after buying food always results in a good haul, but today he looks down into his guitar case and frowns at the pool of change sitting at the bottom. It’s significantly smaller than usual, which doesn’t make much sense considering the masses on the street, and he stands there for an entire minute and a half before the crowds dissapate a little and his ears prick up at the sound of guitar strings being plucked in the distance.[  
](http://evespella.tumblr.com/post/98112025148/and-you-know-what-heres-even-more-aus-i-keep)

He whips his head round, eyes searching until he finds the source of the music: a skinny blonde boy stood a little way down the street, strumming his guitar strings with considerably more dexterity than Harry can generally manage and tapping his Converse-clad foot rhythmically against the pavestones. He’s dressed in a worn t shirt and tight jeans, nothing out of the ordinary for a busker at this time of year, and his eyes are closed in concentration. He doesn’t look new to this, which is confusing because Harry’s certain he’s never seen him before. He’d remember. The guy hasn’t even begun to sing yet, although the mike stand in front of him suggests that he isn’t just a guitarist, and already about half the street have at least looked his way with interest in their eyes. His plucking is really quite something; there’s a professional quality about the way he plays – either that or he’s an absolutely incredible natural – and Harry can’t help but feel a little affronted. This is _his_ street, he’s been coming to play here all year and the regulars really do seem to like him, but he relies on his voice a lot more than his guitar, which he’s always considered to be a secondary talent. If he ever messes up his fretting he knows that his voice helps him to get away with it, he’s not an idiot, he’s aware that he’s a much better singer than guitarist, but this guy is _fantastic_ and of course the crowds are going to flock to someone new.

Whatever. He can be professional about this. It’s no big deal, people can busk wherever they like, honestly he doesn’t even _care_.

He’s just shuffled his guitar back into position and opened his mouth to begin his next cover when the guy down the street starts to sing and Harry’s jaw actually tightens. The guy’s voice is almost as good as his guitar playing.

Oh, it’s _on_.

***

Three songs later and the other guy has definitely noticed Harry. He keeps looking in his direction and _grinning_ , which is really pissing annoying, but Harry’s also finding it difficult not to just run over and talk to the guy about vocal technique because his voice is absolutely incredible and Harry’s studying music at university for a _reason_. He decides on an Arctic Monkeys cover for his next song; it’s not in his usual repertoire unless he’s doing a paid gig but he knows it suits his voice particularly well and okay, maybe he feels like showing off a little bit, so he adjusts his capo and begins to strum.

Right away, people are looking his way again, and he keeps a straight face but internally he’s feeling smug as hell because the other guy finished his last cover over a minute ago and he hasn’t started playing again yet, instead opting to count the cash he’s collected and occasionally shoot a surreptitious glance at Harry. He closes his eyes as he concentrates on hitting a higher note just right, and as the song comes to an end he opens them to see the skinny dude has given up on pretence and is now blatantly staring at him. He smiles and murmurs thanks a couple of times as a few people applaud, then squats down next to his case to count his earnings before packing up. Not his best day, but he’s had far worse and he can’t stay for much longer or he’ll miss his five o’clock lecture. Hoisting his guitar case onto his back, he heads down the street to the bus stop, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the other guy as he passes. It’s weird, he really doesn’t want to lose out on the cash, but he’s oddly looking forward to seeing if the guy is there tomorrow.

***

The guy is there tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. Harry begins to notice that he has a preference for more folky music but can perform the hell out of any chart song if it takes his fancy, that he doesn’t seem to feel the cold or the inclination to ever put on a jumper even on the day when the first frost has appeared on the grass in front of the church along the street, and also that he has a really, really nice smile. It’s really fucking annoying because Harry’s used to collecting more money than this per week, but it’s almost worth it as far as the competitive side of him is concerned as they continue to battle over the loose change of the public.

It’s a week and a half after the first time Harry sees him that they actually interact with one another, and it’s because they both started singing the same song at the same time and the look on Harry’s face when he turns to glare down the street sends the other guy into absolute hysterics _._ It’s really not that funny – okay, he knows he can look like a bit of a twat when he’s angry sometimes, and there was that one time that Louis called him a pissed-off frog and Zayn _cried_ laughing, but this guy doesn’t even know him and it’s a bit rude, Jesus. Harry starts to pack up, too annoyed to keep going, and once he’s loaded everything into his case and grabbed the handle of his speakers he heads over to the dude, intent on actually speaking to him for once.

The guy sees him coming and does a nice improvised ending to the song he’s singing, ending in a really well done riff at the end of the bridge rather than singing the next chorus, and Harry literally can’t understand what he did wrong in a former life to warrant this kind of nemesis.

‘Alright, hey mate, listen – ‘

‘Can you harmonize?’ asks the blonde guy, his mouth curling into a smile as he says the words and completely throwing Harry off whatever he was going to say.

‘Can I what?’

‘Can you harmonize? Like, can you hold a part?’

Harry is confused.

‘Um – well, yeah, actually I’m studying music at uni, of course I know how to hold a part –‘

‘Awesome. That Artic Monkeys song you were playing the other day, think you could do some improv on that?’

What the fuck is going on?

‘I - yes? Probably?’

Definitely, is the answer, he’s done it before with Zayn and Louis when they were in that band for about two weeks, but why the hell –

‘Good, because we’re both making less than we could and people always hang around more if there’s a group performing – get out your guitar, mate, I’m gonna lose that bunch of girls over there if we don’t start playing something soon.’

The guy’s already messing around with strumming and Harry doesn’t know what’s possessing him but he puts down his kit and pulls his guitar out of the case, keeping his eyes locked on the blonde guy. The dude looks up at him and grins the same way he has been for the past week and a half, and nods his head towards the mike.

Harry follows his lead, and he’s dumbfounded.

Of course the guy knows Harry’s usual set up for this song (he’s played it three times on alternate days in the last week) so it’s not a complete fluke, but Harry is stunned at just how good their voices sound together. The guy doesn’t stop smiling throughout the whole song, his eyes bright and his voice soft as he works around Harry’s voice, and they’ve attracted a much bigger crowd than either of them have ever achieved on their own by the final verse – and maybe it’s just the fact that they’re a bit louder now, but they sound so fucking good together and Harry feels dizzy as he strums the last few chords. The girls from earlier are huddled pretty close at this point, and they all giggle as they applaud and hurry forwards to drop coins into the case. Harry twists his head to look at the guy, still wondering what the hell is happening, and is met by one of the sunniest smiles he’s ever seen. Literally, it’s like, _blinding_.

‘Mate, that was fucking sick, we have got to do another one –‘

‘Oh, oh no – I’ve got this, um, this like lecture meeting thing in half an hour, I don’t think – ‘

The guy raises an eyebrow, but his grin doesn’t leave his face.

‘Sodding liar, you didn’t have one this time last week – come on, that was so good, look how much money we got! Seriously, mate, just one more, you did a really good Coldplay cover two days ago and I know I can work out the high notes on the bridge – come on, that was fucking epic!’

Harry stands there, torn, although he doesn’t quite know why and what by. There is absolutely no reason to turn this guy down, everything he’s saying is completely true, but for some reason he just feels…. awkward about it. He opens his mouth to come up with some excuse, he doesn’t know what, but instead what comes out is:

‘How come you remember my Coldplay cover? I’ve only done that song the one time.’

Christ, this guy never stops smiling, does he?

‘Like I said, mate. It was a really, really good cover.’ His face scrunches up as the sun suddenly comes out from behind a cloud, and Harry’s heart actually does some kind of flip. ‘I’m Niall, by the way. Niall Horan.’

‘Harry Styles,’ he manages, and that’s all he says before they begin to duet again, their voices flowing perfectly together.

***

Over the course of the next two weeks, Harry manages to find out bits and pieces about Niall. He knows he’s from a little town in the middle of Ireland, and he knows he’s a Rams fan because he missed a day to get the train up to Derby for a home match. He knows he’s a fresher at the uni like him and he knows he started busking for the same reason Harry did – being a poor student is rubbish and the fee for a busking licence is worth the amount you can earn back inside of a week if you find the right street.

He also now knows that his smile does not, in fact, wear off with time, and neither does the effect it’s having on him.

‘He’s so fucking pretty,’ he moans into Louis’ armpit at 3.30am, after they get back from a night out. ‘He’s so fucking pretty and I don’t know what to _do,_ Lou. Like? His eyes? He has _eyes,_ Lou, and he can _sing_ , and he can harmonize and he has eyes and I want to kiss his guitar? I really want to kiss his guitar oh my god - ’

‘If that was a euphemism, I don’t get it and nor do I wish to, can you please get your face out of my armpit you fucking muppet,’ is all he gets in response, and Harry rolls away to curl up next to him in the tiny bed. They’re sharing because Zayn and that new guy Liam who’s started hanging around with them recently are not being very respectful of the boundaries of their friendship and Harry is hearing things through the wall that he really does not want to hear.

‘They’re in my room. That’s my bed. I can’t avoid my room forever, and I’m going to have to sleep in that bed again at some point in my life,’ says Louis in a pained voice. Harry sighs dramatically, and Louis wriggles a bit until he can get an arm around him.

‘You’re a bombshell and you know it, go and seduce him or some shit with that ancient guitar of yours and you’ll be fine. Wear one of your fancy hats.’

‘Fuck off,’ Harry swats at him, and his eyes start to flutter shut as he snuggles in closer. ‘I really like him, Lou.’

‘Well, Zayn really liked Liam, and here we are, all of us experiencing the joys of their blossoming love together,’ answers Louis, thumping on the wall again is a desperate bid to get them to quieten down a little. Once again, it does nothing to deter them, and Louis slumps back in defeat.

‘Go to sleep, babe. I’m sure that brilliant head of yours will think of a solution in the morning – you know, my brightest moments of inspiration have often hit when I’m incredibly fucking hungover, so you have a good chance of thinking something up tomorrow.’

Harry shuts his eyes and decides to try to just drift off. Louis has given worse advice.

***

Niall’s the one to suggest that they join up permanently, over a month after they started busking together, and Harry’s hasn’t had this much disposable income since before he started uni so he agrees straight away. Inside, he knows it’s a really bad idea because he’s never actually _pined_ before in his life and this whole situation has been embarrassing enough already, but Niall is honestly the sunniest, brightest person he’s ever met and he can’t imagine anyone ever being able to bring themselves to say no to that face. He _laughs_ all the time and he listens to Harry’s suggestions and Harry knows he’s working on some original stuff of his own and god, he’s never been like this before. He’s usually really pragmatic when it comes to liking people: if it works out, great, if not, then he can get over it. He’s never understood why other people have so much trouble with the concept. But Niall is messing with his head and it’s really stressful and he doesn’t know what to _do._

They get booked for their first paid gig as a duo for the week after Harry’s January exams finish, and he leaves most of the prep to Niall because music theory essays come from Satan himself and he doesn’t deal with pressure well. Like, at all. He emails his last one to his tutor minutes before the deadline, ready to collapse into bed and cry because it’s _done it’s done it’s done_ , before remembering that he and Niall had plans to meet up and use Harry’s newly free time to their advantage. He could honestly drop dead from exhaustion, but he collects his keys anyway and heads on over, deciding he can always doze through the session and still pick up most of the important points.

Niall’s already got his guitar out when he gets there, sitting on his bed in his tiny accommodation room. He carries on strumming softly for a few moments after Harry walks in and it’s a new arrangement, a gentler melody that Harry isn’t sure he’s heard before. Niall is incredible when it comes to original composition, Harry’s found, although he struggles with lyrics to a certain extent. Harry is keeping it a secret that he actually has the same issue in reverse; his room is littered with countless notebooks containing snatches of songs and couplet lyrics which he can’t find a tune to fit. He knows that they basically have the solutions to each other’s problems but he wants to keep it to himself anyway, just for a little while – he’s not sure why. Probably because showing those words to Niall would be revealing a part of himself that very, very few people have ever been privy to, and the mere thought of it terrifies him, or whatever.

‘Nice,’ he comments as he drops to sit on the floor, sliding his guitar case around to open it up. ‘You should seriously try playing a few of those during the day, you know, get some practice in with the public if you’re worried about playing them at paid gigs.’

Niall just shakes his head. ‘Not ready yet. Anyway, we need to finish sorting out a setlist for next week before I worry about any of that.’

Harry groans. ‘I’ve just finished my exams, Niall, let me breathe for a minute.’

‘Fucking hell, you couldn’t have reminded me? Jesus, well done! Freedom for another couple of months then?’

‘Well I was under the impression, yeah, but apparently I’m gonna be bombarded with setlists instead so maybe not.’

Niall gives him his usual signature grin and flops down onto the floor next to him.

‘Seriously, I’m proud of you, mate. Music is absolutely my life, but I could never write all those sodding essays the way you do, can’t fucking imagine it.’

Harry leans his head on Niall’s shoulder, and _aches_. He’s so, so beautiful.

They finish off their scheduling in surprisingly good time, and it’s only half past nine when Harry suggests a movie. They end up watching Moonrise Kingdom because Niall hasn’t seen it and Harry nearly falls off the bed when he tells him so, seriously, _Wes Anderson_ , and by the time it finishes it’s eleven o’clock and Harry is barely awake anymore. It’s been a _really_ long day.

He feels Niall shift next to him, and blearily opens one eye because it’s Niall and he’s physically incapable of ignoring anything he does. Niall is sitting up, legs tucked beneath his chin, and humming the tune he was playing earlier, his eyes drifting shut. The problem is that Harry knows the lyrics that would fit, can think of the perfect words and knows exactly where they’re scribbled in a notebook in his room, and all of a sudden the room feels very still. He sits up.

Niall looks at him, and his eyes are so focused and sure. Harry’s heartbeat is thrumming, and he can hear a rushing sound in his ears, and he won’t panic, he won’t panic, he won’t panic. He shuffles on the bed, tucking his legs underneath himself. Niall smiles very slightly then reaches out, lays his hand on top of Harry’s palm so gently, and where their fingers intertwine Harry can feel the roughness of callouses worn by years of guitar playing. He looks at him for a long moment, waits for a beat – and then sucks in a sudden breath, surges upwards and kisses him.

For a moment, he’s filled with icy dread, because Niall doesn’t respond and he thinks his heart might have actually stopped. A second passes, and it’s the longest second Harry has ever experienced – but then Niall’s hand tightens its grip on his and their lips are moving together and oh. _Oh_.

They move fluidly, quickly, both of them rising up on their knees at the same time, and Harry’s going to lose his balance on this mattress but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t fucking care, because Niall’s got one hand on his waist and the other wrapped around the back of his neck and his lips are as soft as he’d imagined and he’s never going to be able to watch that mouth sing without wanting to kiss him like this ever again. His hands curl on Niall’s chest and his heart is absolutely pounding and _so is Niall’s_ and he has to remember to breathe, breathe, breathe.

They break apart, and Niall smiles at him, and for once Harry doesn’t feel blinded.

He feels illuminated.

***

Their first gig as a duo takes place a week later, and Niall doesn’t perform the new song they stayed up writing, but the smile on his face says it’s not far off. Louis and Zayn and even Liam (who has never met Niall before in his life) are cheering from the front of the room, Louis winking at Harry every time Niall so much as tilts his head in Harry’s direction. Harry can’t even find it within himself to be pissed, because his exams are done and he has a paid gig and he’s writing some amazing songs and also he has a fucking boyfriend and the world has never been a better place.

**Author's Note:**

> it was really short and a bit rubbish but it's my first piece of writing in over a year so thank u for reading!! i'm over at aesthetichoran on tumblr if u wanna come say hi


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